


i need a voice to let myself (to let myself go free)

by buckyjbarnnes



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anger Management, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove Lives, Character Study, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Cheating, Recreational Drug Use, Soft Billy Hargrove, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, billy sorts his shit out basically, not really anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 08:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckyjbarnnes/pseuds/buckyjbarnnes
Summary: Billy used to be an angry person, but he wasn’t always like that.





	i need a voice to let myself (to let myself go free)

**Author's Note:**

> This took 2 fucking months to write and for some reason, it was really hard too. I projected all kinds of shit on Billy for this, so I apologize in advance. 
> 
> The title is from the lyrics of St Anger by Metallica. It was gonna be called just Saint Anger, but there's already a fic out there with that name and a really good one at that. I don't only listen to Metallica, I swear, even if I only seem to title my fics after their songs and/or lyrics lmao.

He always knew he wanted out, that needed to escape before he got killed or lost his fucking mind. Turns out, the former had to happen, literally, for him to be able to get out. 

At first, it was just leaving his dad’s to go find his mom, to see if she’d take him in. Then it was just leaving, just so that his dad wouldn’t kill him. Of course, when they moved to Shithole, Indiana, he also wanted to leave because the small-town life made him feel like he was fucking suffocating. The town wasn’t right, obviously because it was full of conservative hicks, horny, gross housewives and boring people, but also because he always knew there was  _ something  _ about it that didn’t quite fit, he could feel it in his gut and in the chilly air. 

He’d been absolutely right about that one. So right, it cost him his life. 

He ends up leaving because he can’t take it anymore. Not the ghost of his past, not the people around him, not the shell of the person he used to be and that he no longer is, nor will ever be again. He feels as if everyone else can’t take him anymore, because he lost that something no one else possessed; that fire that gave him his reputation, that posturing in which his entire persona was based. He doesn’t have that anymore, though, so he’s just Poor Billy Hargrove.

_ Poor Billy Hargrove _ , they all keep saying. Billy can hear them, can see them look at him with pity in their eyes, with their sympathetic smiles and their shy greetings, like Billy might snap like a twig if they don’t handle him with care. And Billy  _ hates  _ it, makes him feel all kinds of wrong. 

He doesn’t need the pity, or the sympathy, or the soft-spoken words and empty small talk. He’s not poor Billy Hargrove, who has no mommy and a mean daddy. He’s not poor Billy Hargrove, who almost died - who actually died and came back from the deepest pits of hell - and now is just the shadow of the person he once was. He’s not poor Billy Hargrove, broken, sad and alone. 

He doesn’t want the pity, but it all is very fucking unfair. He lost his life, not only because he was declared dead for a while there, but because nothing is the same and he knows, won’t  _ ever  _ be the same again. The treatment he gets, the fact that he’s now a cripple, the fact that he no longer can go out without people looking at him funny, is all shit and a fucking honest to god  _ disgrace _ , but he finds it doesn’t make him angry. And it’s a fucking revelation because if he still were the man he was just a couple months ago, he’d be seething with anger, thirsty for whatever kind of revenge he could get. Seems as if anger left him after everything though, as if it escaped from him when that shadow monster pierced through his chest, so it all- his entire life nowadays, is  _ exhausting _ . 

Billy used to be an angry person, but he wasn’t always like that. Anger didn’t make an appearance often, not when mom was around, anyway. He was a sweet kid, smiley and gentle. He was like that until she abandoned him, and he felt like a part of him was ripped out, like a part of him left with her to never come back. He was sad for a long time, feeling as if he wasn’t enough, as if he wasn’t a good son and that’s why she left him. Like if she left him, everyone else would eventually leave too. Sadness was hard to manage though, Billy found, so it blended with resentment for what everyone else had and what he didn’t; for what Neil was supposed to be, and what he  _ so  _ clearly wasn’t. The sweetness died out then, corroded with pain and bitterness that loomed over him, much like the shadow monster did. 

As Billy grew up, the punishments and grounding that consisted of backhands and slaps from his father became punches and kicks, every time more and more violent, and his anger just became a gateway for the frustration it all caused him. Every time, it took less and less for Billy to be angry, and at some point, it just became another part of him, like his very name. 

Anger was easy because it didn’t require much thinking to get angry. It was easy to explode and punch away the pain, to break things and throw fists. It was even easier to yell so loud everyone went quiet and looked downright afraid. Anger meant not dealing with sadness and frustration. Anger meant not dealing with his feelings because they are complicated, and Billy was never good at working his own, not even when his mom was still around and he wasn’t so hard-edged. Anger was an escape, a facade, the first wall of the many walls he built around himself. Billy learned that if he got angry, people never got too close which in turn meant they couldn’t hurt him, or most importantly, abandon him. 

Anger also created an illusion of power and control, and it’s quite ironic to him now, because he was never in control of anything, not even himself. If Billy got angry enough though, people did as he ordered, since fear is the best way to control people, after all. That’s how he understood that anger was a weapon and his fucking  _ best friend _ . Dad could do whatever he wanted to him, but everyone else? They never dared to even look at him wrong. The illusion stretched so far, that he was apparently untouchable. Always had the upper hand, always came on top. 

So, anger meant respect, and control, and the armor that kept Billy from getting any more hurt than he already was. It also meant lashing out on people who didn’t always deserve it and being called an asshole or a crazy motherfucker more often than not, but most importantly, it meant being lonely, because no one wanted a ticking-time-bomb close. It was the price to pay, he guessed. 

He paid for it alright, when that thing got ahold of him and he had no one he could tell. It all resulted in him - not really him, he tries to repeat the government shrink’s voice - killing Hawkins residents and then in his gruesome death. He knows about the Byers kid and how Max’s little friends, the mom, the brother, Wheeler and even fucking Harrington, did everything they could even when it cost a couple of lives and a bunch of trauma, to save him from that monster. No one really noticed something was wrong with him at first, much less did anything for him, aside from the sauna thing that honestly wasn’t the best idea, because no one cared about him enough to worry. Maxine tried, even when she shouldn’t have and didn’t have a reason to, so he doesn’t blame her for not trying harder.

It left him breathless, left him crumbled and devastated when he realized as much. That realization dawned on him a few weeks into his recovery in some sterile government hospital, and he wanted to be angry, wanted to be fucking enraged at the fact that it was all his doing, to end up alone and strapped to a bed. He tried to be angry, tugging on the restraints with a few painful pulls, but he just found that he was exhausted and  _ void _ , like the withering flower in the branch outside the window. 

He feels the same when people say, Poor Billy Hargrove. He hates it, hates every second of it, but he’s not angry - he’s just,  _ done  _ with it all. He’s not even angry at Neil anymore, at how he looks at him with annoyance and sometimes fear, at how he checks himself when he wants to hit Billy, at how now he’s not Neil Hargrove’s fuck-up son, but Neil Hargrove’s fuck-up  _ crippled _ son. 

He’s not angry at his new life either. At Max’s gentle hands and words that he knows he doesn’t deserve, or at the therapy sessions that he’s still required to attend, or even at the fact that he now has a limp that won’t  _ ever _ go away coupled with the fact that he’s now gone soft in the middle and is covered in scars. He’s just tired, just.  _ So _ over everything. So fed up about knowing that it seems like there’s nothing good left, that even the sliver of hope he had, the little thing that made forgotten feelings,  _ good _ feelings, surface, leaves him too. 

So it isn’t his death, or Neil, or the people that make him leave. The last straw? Is Steve  _ fucking  _ Harrington. 

Harrington, the fucking mother hen, had come to visit him when they transferred him, once the government doctors prodded him in every way possible and found nothing useful to Hawkins Hospital to continue his recovery. It all inevitably resulted in some sort of weird friendship, where Steve helped him with things he couldn’t do because of the bad knee from the car crash and the chest from the fucking monster. He wouldn’t have let him in before, wouldn’t have stripped himself bare and allowed Harrington to see him in his most vulnerable state if it wasn’t for the fact that anger wasn’t there anymore and that the walls around him seemed to have crumbled. 

He wouldn’t have  _ ever  _ let it escalate into more if he was the man he used to be, but he doesn’t have the resolve of keeping people at bay anymore. So friendship becomes more, as it happens, one night sometime after he was released from the hospital. He’d been at Harrington’s, because where else would he be, getting high, because what the fuck else would he do to numb the pain a little bit. Smoking  _ hurt _ now though, felt like his chest was rattling around like a bad engine, and that particular night his chest hurt so bad he had to like, sit in a certain position to be able to breathe. 

It all changes because Harrington, the fucking bleeding heart wants to help him with that too, and says that they should shotgun. 

“For real?” Billy said, a bit stunned, aching too much to protest or be amused. 

“Uh,” Harrington said, looking a bit pink in the cheeks. “Yeah man, ‘s no big deal, see here-” 

And he pulled a fucking  _ bandana  _ out of the pocket of his bomber jacket, not looking him in the eye and blushing harder, motioning with his hands. “I can like, tie it around my mouth, so that, y’ know-” 

And that made Billy laugh, made him cough and wince a bit, too. Made him hoarsely say, “Alright Jeez, can’t a guy laugh a little bit? I’m not saying no,” when Harrington got offended and went fucking crimson in the face. 

And Harrington did tie it around his mouth, lighting the joint and inhaling through the bandana, because  _ of course _ he would do that, and then getting close to Billy, clearly a bit nervous and still crimson like before, cupping his jaw in his hands gently, and for all intents and purposes,  _ kissing  _ him through the cloth. 

He could feel Harrington’s breath hitch a bit, could feel the shape of his lips on his own. He closed his eyes at the first touch like some damn girl being kissed for the first time. He could feel the smoke filtering through, familiar but not burning like it would’ve if he’d done it on his own. Harrington inhaled a couple of times and then-  _ kissed  _ Billy just like the first time, his lips soft around his own, his hands warm on his jaw, and it was- it was better than anything he’d felt in a  _ long  _ time.

Harrington parted, not to take more hits but just to look at him, a bit hazed and no longer crimson, and then it just- it  _ happened _ . Like, of course a couple of hits were only enough to get him a bit dizzy, but then one moment Harrington still had the bandana and was looking at him, and the next he was ripping it off and kissing Billy for real, licking his lower lip and then his tongue, his hands cupping his jaw. And then-  _ well _ . Billy was only human, and Harrington felt like- felt like fucking  _ sunshine  _ or something, kissing him so gently, so after just a bit he was placing himself on the guy’s lap, with his tongue down his throat and grinding into him, into the hardness he felt against his own. And his knee kinda hurt, he remembers, because he was still in therapy for that, but Steve smelled so nice and felt so close and so warm and so real with his arms around him so gently, Billy couldn’t help but get lost in him. It felt like everything he ever wanted but never had. It was  _ bliss _ , having Harrington for him and himself only, even better than everything and anything he had before his fucking life went downhill.

That’s all it took really, for their relationship to start. And it went like that for a while after that fateful night. Harrington and him being all lovey-dovey, cuddling and kissing, eating together, sleeping together, grinding into each other to completion every fucking waking moment, it seemed. It could’ve been that he was all shades of fucked up, even with the help of the shrink he religiously went to, but he got attached  _ really  _ easily. Kinda hard not to, when he already had a thing for him before everything. It proved harder when they started spending almost all their time together, touching constantly, Harrington reassuring him, holding him and being his fucking anchor when just existing was a bit too much. He never had someone like Harrington in his life before, never let anyone too close, too afraid and broken to do so, so Harrington was a first, showing him how to be vulnerable and pliant and to feel  _ safe  _ at the same time _ .  _   
  


He’s violently shaken to reality, when he wakes one Sunday afternoon after a nap, and walks to the kitchen in search for him, for his warm embrace and his sweet words. He walks eagerly, fully intending to cling to him like a lifeline, only to see Wheeler leaning in and kissing him. The bitch even has the  _ nerve  _ to look embarrassed, when she’s brusquely pushed away. He thinks it’s funny, how seeing her kissing Harrington hurts more than any bullet she could’ve put in him the 4th of July. He nearly throws up, his face draining of color, his knees buckling and his chest hurting more than it did when the monster pierced through him, but then he just kicks the door to make himself be noticed, turns around straight for the door to put his shoes on and get the fuck away. Anger is lost on him again, although he knows he  _ should  _ be angry, screaming and throwing things like he once would’ve. The deep exhaustion is the only thing that settles in his chest though, his heart feeling like a crumpled napkin, making it hard to breathe. He feels Wheeler walk past him, opening the door and leaving desperately fast, and then he feels Harrington touching him. When he turns, he has tears streaming down his face, looking guilty and pained and desperate, just about one second away from dying, and Billy- he just wants to  _ evaporate _ . 

He starts rambling, saying, “Baby, baby, she came in and  _ she  _ did it- I should’ve pushed her away quicker- I’m sorry, I’m  _ so  _ sorry baby-” 

“Just leave it, Harrington,” Billy says, voice broken, standing up from the ground, scrambling to get away from Steve’s hands. He only stops when he hears  _ Harrington _ , shocked and grimacing like he was punched in the gut. “It’s fine.” 

“Billy-” Harrington says, sobbing, reaching and stopping himself from touching. 

“I get it, you know,” Billy said, wiping his tears and then grabbing Steve’s face in his hands. “Don’t worry,” 

He let go, turning around. He hearsHarrington sob again, reach for him, vehemently saying no, asking him to listen, but he’s out of the door, climbing into his old pick-up truck as fast as he can with his bad knee, and he’s out of there. 

And he knows- he  _ knows  _ that maybe he should’ve stayed. That it was apparent even to him, that Wheeler was the one who did it. He saw Harrington push her away, saw his expression of confusion and anger before he saw Billy standing just outside the kitchen and his expression changed to one of pure heartbreak and desperation. He knows, deep down, this isn’t fair to Steve. He knows that it wasn’t cheating and that he wants to turn around and go straight to Steve’s arms, to ask him to forgive him and kiss him, to  _ love  _ him, but- he did say that he was all shades of fucked-up. 

He leaves, not knowing where he’s going, but he drives until his knee hurts too much and he has to stop. 

**…**

Billy has money. He’s been keeping the money because he wanted to leave, wanted to go far away, at first all on his own but then he only pictured himself leaving with Harrington somewhere new and brighter. Now- he doesn’t know, can’t think straight, so he just leaves without a destination, on impulse more than anything, without a word and just a few things he keeps in a backpack in his truck. He’s still wearing one of Steve’s too big and too old sweaters, still smelling like him when the sign says he’s in someplace called Bloomington. 

He has the money because that’s what the government paid him for his life. After the two month mark since he left the hospital, some lawyer caught him as he left his shrink’s office and sat him down to make him sign a bunch of confidentiality and legal papers about what the lawyer called The Accident. Then, after two weeks since the encounter, he got a bank statement for an account he never opened that said he’d been awarded a hundred thousand dollars. He laughed, like, legitimately laughed, because apparently lives and souls do have a price. His are a hundred thousand apparently, and because the arrogant douchebag he once was still loomed in the distance, he thought what he gave up that night is  _ at least  _ several hundred more. Once he checked the papers he signed under pressure, he saw that the money is for compensation as much as it is a guarantee that he’ll remain silent about what happened. It’s good he’s not big on talking much about it, anyway. 

He didn’t tell Harrington about it because he has it as a surprise. He recognizes that he’s a bit...  _ intense _ and that when he got the money it was like, three weeks at most of them doing their thing, so he didn’t say it outright as he wanted, but he thought about like, telling Harrington someday if he wanted to get a place together. Like, a _ house _ and shit. But now- he doesn’t know how that’ll work out. 

Something, even as he gets further and further away from Hawkins, tells him that leaving was all a mistake and that he’s overreacting. He doesn’t stop driving though.

**… **

When he stops, it’s in some dingy gas station that’s not even open anymore, but his knee hurts, and he needs to stretch a little bit. 

In the back of it, where there’s some sort of hangar, stands a big fucking sign that reads “24 HOUR SERVICE BOBBY’S FINEST MOTOR SERVICE”. He’s kinda glad that’s there, feels less lonely standing in the deserted gas station. Also, comes in handy, because he’s not… a  _ fighter _ anymore and he kinda appreciates that he could ask for help if need be, ya know, seeing as he could very well be robbed there. 

Regret is starting to catch up with him, and he kinda- he wants to cry. He wants to cry because it’s  _ not fair _ . And he feels like he’s throwing a temper tantrum, like, he’s what people think of when they think of Poor Billy Hargrove, fucking five years old and defenseless or something, because out of all people in the fucking world, he had to be the one losing everything over things he can’t even control. First, he had to lose his mother over his fucking bastard of a father, then he had to lose his  _ life _ and his  _ sanity  _ over some fucking shadow monster that took it all from him, and just now, he had to lose the only good thing left he had in this shit world over that  _ bitch  _ Nancy fucking Wheeler. 

He always knew he wasn’t God’s favorite child, but he’s starting to think He fucking  _ hates  _ him. 

He- starts to feel the  _ anger  _ again. Not like before, not the blind hot rage that coursed through him and made him lose track of reality. Not the anger that possessed him, much like the fucking monster, that made him want to blow up like a mine and destroy everything around him. This is more like- like justified, like subdued and he feels it  _ hurt _ in his chest and his gut. He shakes, not from the cold, but from how much he’s feeling, and he realizes he’s crying and  _ sobbing _ . He feels angry, but it feels deeper, not like when he used to get angry because Maxine said “what?” three times in a row because she didn’t hear him, or when someone stood like fucking dumbass in the middle of the hall at school. It doesn’t feel explosive, doesn’t feel like his normal outbursts. He’s just- his anger is directed and canalized at someone in particular, for the first time, not at whatever little nuisance that was just a scapegoat to the fact that he was angry at everyone and everything. He’s angry at Wheeler specifically, but he doesn’t wanna hit her or yell at her or say some hurtful shit as he would’ve before, but he does want to tell her to go fuck herself, wants to make her say sorry and mean it. 

And despite the fact that he’s shaking and sobbing with anger and regret and shame in some fucking gas station somewhere in like, fucking  _ Illinois _ , he feels better, feels less like the void is inside of him and more like the man he was and that he’s always been. Not to say his entire existence is based on misery, but he feels the anger coursing through his veins, and he remembers who he is, remembers that he’s like that, that even when he was a sweet kid, he was still a bit short-tempered and sometimes a dick. The mellowed-out version of himself; quiet and pliant and less jagged is-  _ good _ , but not having it in him to feel anything but resignation? That shit was tiring and he didn’t want it anymore. If that was all there was, maybe he was as good as dead.

He feels like for the first time, he’s working out his feelings what with how he’s not acting on them and going after Nancy Wheeler to do... _ something _ to her. Maybe he’s even feeling what must be the healthy version of anger, what  _ normal  _ people felt when they have a reason to be angry. He’s not gonna lie, the power that came with throwing fists and being fucking unhinged was great, but being able to be in control, to cry it out and  _ think  _ about it is even better. He thinks the shrink would be so fucking proud of him. 

Billy also feels like he wants to go back to Steve. He- they need to talk about it, like normal fucking grown-ups. He wants Steve, wants to be with him, wants his explanation, wants to tell him he shouldn’t be sorry, wants his warm hugs and his breath ghosting the shell of his ear, and something tells him Steve wants Billy just as much, but he doesn’t want to go back to Indiana, let alone stay there. Not because Billy’s like those crazy wives that force their husband to move so they can’t cheat anymore - and isn’t that fucking  _ embarrassing _ , that he’s thinking of Steve and him like a fucking  _ married  _ couple where he’s the  _ wife _ , - or because he has some like,  _ vendetta  _ against Wheeler. He doesn’t want to be in fucking Hawkins anymore because it’s  _ too much _ . It’s the first time in what feels like years that in reality have only been six months, that he feels like he has some clarity of mind and not the hollowness that plagued him, and it all happens because he’s outside of that cursed town. It’s like a fucking  _ epiphany _ or something. 

He doesn’t know if Steve wants to leave, seeing as he has much more to lose than Billy does. He has the goth chick, who’s great to Billy and is the only one aside from Steve and Maxine who doesn’t treat him like he’s made out of porcelain. He has Max’s weirdo gang, who obviously loves him, especially Dustin, who Billy knows would literally die for Steve. He has his asshole parents, that would flip their absolute shit if he left, seeing as they love to keep appearances of a picture-perfect family. He also has that shit job that he actually  _ likes _ at the video store. So. His entire life is in Hawkins, and Billy doesn’t want to take that away from him. 

For a moment there, he thinks about letting go, about driving somewhere and starting wherever he ends up, about letting Steve have something better than his still scrambled and messed up self. He gets angry at himself for thinking that, not angry in the way that he might want to punch something, but angry enough that he curses a bit and starts thinking again, and realizes that Steve deserves better than him fucking off without a word. Billy isn’t about to essentially do what people have done to him his entire life to the person he-  _ loves  _ the most. Even if Steve doesn’t want him after his whole deal with driving off to nowhere in particular like a crazy asshole, he at least wants, for the first time ever in his life to do things like a normal human being, like a mentally  _ healthy  _ one. For the fucking first time ever, he wants to talk about the shit he’s feeling instead of bottling it all up and then punching and yelling it away. 

He doesn’t know for how long he’s been standing there outside the truck, with his eyes lost and shivering from the cold, but he only climbs back into it when sounds and lights turn on around the back of the motor service, and an old man wearing dirty, ratty clothes, who he supposes must be Bobby, comes out with a fucking gun in his hand and looking suspicious as fuck about Billy. He gets it, though, he’d be suspicious too if someone who looked like him - wearing an old sweater and sweatpants and a pair of lumberjack boots with a shaved head and a face full of fresh tears were standing outside his business at 1 in the fucking morning. 

He didn’t survive an interdimensional shadow monster only to be shot by a hick mechanic somewhere in fucking Illinois. 

Kinda fucked up that something like that is his cue to start his drive back to Hawkins. Kinda fucked up that getting hurt yet again is what revs him into feeling again, into taking matters in his own hands and doing something. 

**…**

He thinks the whole three hours it takes to drive back about how he’s gonna discuss things with Steve, how he’s gonna share his feelings and all that, but frankly, he has no fucking idea how exactly one does that. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, whatever plan he had because when he parks in Steve’s driveway and enters the quiet house, he forgets all about it. 

Steve- he practically  _ throws  _ himself at Billy as soon as he’s on the foyer, running down the stairs and everything. His eyes are puffy and wide and Billy wants to cry all over again when he sees Steve look so relieved to have him back. When he feels Steve wrapping his arms around his waist, hugging him tightly and clinging to him like a lifeline, Billy can’t help but clutch back just as tightly.

“Oh my God Billy,” Steve says, muffled against the crook of his neck. “I thought you  _ left me _ \- fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” 

Billy runs a hand up and down Steve’s back, soothing when Steve breaks down crying. He doesn’t know what to say, so he only hugs him tighter. 

It’s a while until Steve calms down enough to sit down. It’s even longer until they start speaking. 

“I’m sorry,” Billy says. Steve looks at him like he grew another head. 

“ _ You’re _ sorry?” 

“Yeah,” Billy shrugs. “I blew it out of proportion. I’m sorry.” 

“Billy,” Steve says, shaking his head and looking even more confused. “I thought you left me, like,  _ forever  _ for what happened, and  _ you’re  _ saying sorry?” 

“I’m trying this new thing, just say you accept the apology or say you don’t,” Billy says, a bit gruff. “Please.” 

“Yeah, yeah apology accepted,” Steve says looking even more confused, exasperated even. “But Billy-  _ I  _ should be the one apologizing-” 

“It’s not your fault, I saw what happened,” Billy’s voice sounds foreign to his ears. “I- just. I might be more fucked up than what I let on, pretty boy, but. I want this to work out. I don’t wanna lose you over something stupid. I don’t wanna lose you over Wheeler, fuck, even if she’s better than me and saner than me and-” 

“Hey, hey,  _ no _ ,” Steve cups Billy’s face with his hands, looks him in the eye a bit desperate. “You won’t, you’re perfect, what the hell, I love you-” His eyes go wide after he says that and he goes the exact same shade of crimson he went when they first got together.

Billy would laugh at Steve’s face if this were a different situation. He starts to take his hands off of Billy’s face, but he grabs them, keeps them in place, says, “I love you too,” 

They look at each other for a bit, and honestly, Billy in his fantasies kinda thought this moment would go a bit different, a bit more  _ romantic  _ or whatever, but it’s wonderful. It’s even better when Steve slowly kisses him sweetly, not pushing, not urgent. Just, enjoys Billy’s lips, and his corresponding back. Billy likes that they’re kissing like they have all the time in the world. 

When they part, Steve lays them down on the couch and Billy’s head is on his chest, embraced completely by his warmth. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of all the touching and the hugs and the kisses, or of Steve’s smell and the way his strong arms contain him when he feels like he’s exploding at the seams. It makes him feel safe, makes him feel more  _ human _ , like those things he thought were ripped out when his mom left him are still there somewhere. He doesn’t believe that a  _ boyfriend  _ or whatever Steve is to him, can heal him magically, but it sure makes him better every day. A show of that is that he returned, that he apologized, that he didn’t go after Nancy Wheeler or did something stupid because he got angry like he would’ve before. 

Man, he can’t stop thinking that the shrink would be so fucking proud of him. 

“I really thought you left me, you know,” Steve says after a bit. He sounds- _mystified_ about the whole situation. 

“You can’t get rid of me, pretty boy,” Billy says, hugs Steve tighter. “It’s hard sometimes and-I can’t help but do some stupid shit. I hope you’re on board with that.” 

“Well, I love you, I’m on board with anything,” Steve shrugs like it’s that simple. “I’m sorry for hurting you, I didn’t get a chance to say it.” 

“It’s okay, Steve, I saw what went down,” Billy clings harder to Steve. “She should be the one saying sorry.” 

Steve tenses a bit.“I- really don’t know where that came from. She said something about Jonathan and her taking a break because he’s too far away and then- I don’t know- she just-” 

“Whatever it was I don’t- I don’t wanna know,” Billy says, and he’s angry at her, makes him frown and feel wrong inside. “I don’t wanna talk about her, I just want her to fuck off.“ 

“She- I don’t think she’ll come close again,” Steve says convinced, makes Billy look at him. “I promise you she won’t,”

Billy nods, anger escaping him when he remembers he’s the one holding Steve and not the one being pushed away. He’s not a  _ reject. _ A heavyweight is lifted from his chest. “Yeah, alright.” 

A silent beat goes by, and Billy lays back down, furrowing in Steve’s warmth. He falls asleep like that, with Steve holding him and scratching his buzzed hair lightly, feeling him real and his on the couch, and for the first time in a long time, not feeling hollow or bitter or tired. 

He still wants out of the town, but he knows he won’t be leaving without Steve. 

**…**

He does end up leaving with Steve, a bit over a month after the whole shitshow with Wheeler. 

And- things change after they confessed their feelings and Billy had his epiphany. He no longer walks around just existing and being pliant on everything. It’s like- he’s  _ present  _ now, actually feeling something more than just despair and exhaustion. He thinks it’s just like him to have started feeling human again once he rediscovered anger. He’s realized it seems to  _ fuel  _ the person he is. It's like, he’s  _ built  _ around it, because he’s a bit short-tempered and grumpy even if he’s simultaneously nicer, softer and less jagged now, more prone to talk instead of quietly brood and punch. It's like- he  _ found  _ his identity or whatever. He doesn’t mind the person he is now, and people around him don’t seem to mind either. If anything, Steve seems to be completely smitten. 

And their relationship gets better too since Billy is more-  _ normal  _ now. It’s less like Steve is his only source of happiness and more like he’s a support, a companion to help him get through the bad shit. Steve means the world to him still, but he looks at everything from a different perspective, and it only makes Billy love him more. He even has it in himself to forgive Wheeler, even if she doesn’t come close anymore. 

It gets even better when they move - the further away Hawkins is, Billy seems to feel more like he really got a second chance at life. He gets why the Byers left as soon as they could, too. It’s great, knowing they’re headed to a place where he isn’t going to be  _ Poor Billy Hargrove _ anymore and where no one knows of how angry and broken he was; somewhere he isn’t going to be constantly reminded of both his past mistakes and what he lost. It’s even better to know that he’s got Steve now, to enjoy his second chance and remind him that not everything is bad. 

“You’re smiling,” Steve says, looking away from the road for a second, smiling too. 

“Well, I’m happy, pretty boy,” Billy answers easily, rests his head against the window. 

Steve just takes one of Billy’s hands on his own, squeezes a bit. 

It all is very beautiful, even when life is still life and is inherently fucking  _ hard  _ and he’s still not completely okay and knows he won’t be okay completely ever again, but he ultimately finds he’s not angry about it. 

He never knew his out, not only from Hawkins but from misery, could be so sweet. 

**Author's Note:**

> This only exists because my good friend Emilia is a very persistent person. I know you're reading this, so please know that I love you to death and that the bandana thing is all for you. 
> 
> About the fic, I hope it didn't suck too much, I guess? That Bobby's finest motor service thing came printed on a trucker hat I saw somewhere when I went to buy clothes and I think it's a real place somewhere in Nebraska lmao. I don't have much to say about the fic because I don't know what to say. I guess from my personal experience, all I can say is that anger is Hard and that emotional trauma is even Harder. 
> 
> English is not my first language so I dearly appreciate it if you leave your comments and some feedback too!<3 Thank you for reading!
> 
> In the two years I've been writing for this ship I never plugged myself, but I'm gonna do it now. This is my twitter handle: @/jmasturblancas, if you ever wanna hmu. I mostly tweet in Spanish and I have a stupid user, but don't let that hold you back lmao.


End file.
